


LA

by hailingstars



Series: good kid [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Abandonment, Adoption, Arcades, F/M, Fluff, Gun Violence, Haircuts, Light Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent Tony Stark, Peter loves animals, Sea Otters, Star Wars - Freeform, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony is the Best Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-12-07 15:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18237002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars
Summary: 5 times Tony distracts Peter from a self-destructive decision, and one time he lets him go, featuring sea otters, babysitter Happy Hogan and a Star Wars premiere.ORPeter wants to unleash Spider-Man on LA's criminals, Tony doesn't want that, and does everything he can to distract Peter away from it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Here's the next part to this series. This one is going to be a bit more light hearted than the stories so far, except the last one, since that one is pretty fluffy. There's some light angst sprinkled in at the end. Hope you enjoy it!

Peter hated sunscreen.

Specifically, he hated the way it smelled, and he hated the way it made him smell when he was forced to apply excessive amounts on his skin. He hated sitting in the shade under the canopy, hopelessly watching the empty pool in front of him while he waited the thirty minutes for it to bind to his skin.

And so when Peter saw Tony abandon his station behind the grill and come at him with a fresh bottle of it, he ducked his head under the water and sunk down to the bottom of the pool. Water filled his ears before Tony could bark out any words. Peter heard the muffled versions of his name being shouted from up above. 

He stayed under for as long as his lungs could take it, and when he emerged, he immediately wanted to go back under. Tony stood at the pool’s edge, staring down at him, both unimpressed and still holding the bottle of sunscreen. 

“Out of the pool,” he told him.

Peter lifted himself out of the water, crawled onto the concrete and slowly stood up to face Tony, wiping his hair around, violently, as he did. Like a dog trying to get dry, except with the intentional of getting Tony wet. He blinked away a few drops of water, unaffected by Peter’s ploy to annoy him.

“You need a haircut,” said Tony. He shoved a bottle of sunscreen at him. “Reapply. It’s been two hours.” 

“Fine.”

He slumped his shoulders, turned and walked away, trying to figure out if he really hated the sunscreen, or if it was the helicoptering that was driving him insane. He was fifteen, almost sixteen, and he definitely didn’t need Tony hovering that closely. 

Peter joined Pepper and Ned under the canopy. Pepper wore sunglasses, and had her head in a book, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world, while Ned watched him with a grin.

“He’s worse than my mom.” 

“Dude, shut up.” 

Pepper snorted out a laugh and turned the page of her book, paying attention after all. 

Peter ignored Ned, reapplied the sunscreen, like Tony told him, and let his eyes drift back to the pool and the bright, sunny, California day that framed it. It was a perfect kind of day. Not a cloud in the sky, with the most fantastic smell coming off the grill, and Tony’s old school music playing in the background.  

A day like this couldn’t be wasted by sitting out in the shade, on the sidelines, so when Tony looked down to flip the burgers on the grill, Peter made a move to jump back in the pool He was stopped, in his tracks, shot down by a glare and a spatula being pointed at him.

“Skin cancer is real, genius,” said Tony. 

 “I’m Spider-Man, though,” said Peter. “Can I even get cancer?” 

“We’re not going to find out. Get back in the shade.”

He slumped his shoulders again, sighed, and marched back over to sit with Pepper and Ned. He grabbed a Gatorade from the cooler, and sat at the patio table next to Ned, longing for the days when Tony and Pepper would be too busy with work to hover, for the days when him and Ned would be left to swim, or do whatever else, without adult supervision and helicoptering.

Peter had big plans for those days of freedom. He had the entire city of LA, and his Spidey suit, and his mission to get back in the swing of things as Spider-Man before returning to New York. By that time, at least he hoped, he’d be ready for his real mission, hunting down the man who shot Ben and avenge his uncle’s murder.

Tony broke him from his thoughts by putting a plate full of hamburgers in the center of the table. Peter didn’t realize he was hungry until at second. His stomach growled, and he piled his plate high with food, eventually devouring three cheeseburgers before Ned and the rest of his family could even finish one. They stared at him, looking an equal mixed between shocked and confused, leaving Peter to only shrug in response. 

“What?” asked Peter, his mouth full. “I’m hungry.”

“I forgot what you were like with the spidey metabolism,” said Tony. He looked horrified. “You should’ve been taking breaks for snacks.” 

Great. That’s just what Peter needed. Just another excuse for Tony to mother hen.

He had a fourth cheeseburger, washed it down with some Gatorade, and idly wondered if Tony would ever teach him to grill burgers the way he did it. For the moment, he was happy to be a consumer, but he wouldn’t mind Tony hovering if it meant he learned to grill hamburgers as good as the four he just ate.

Thirty minutes later, both Peter and Ned were back in the pool, just in time to watch the sun go down. It cast an orangish, turquoise glow. Peter didn’t know nature had so many fantastic and beautiful colors, and he was definitely paying attention to them. He thought back to a time when he couldn’t convince himself to have the energy to care about sunsets, and wondered if that made the colors brighter now, if passing through all that suffering made them more stunning. 

When it was dark, they ventured back inside, dripping wet despite their towels, and drop dead tired despite desperately wanting to stay awake. They lost their fights, fell asleep mid-conversation in the living room, and didn’t wake up until the morning. 

* * *

 

“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” asked Ned. He was sitting up on Peter’s bed the next morning, watching him as he stuffed his Spidey suit into a bookbag. “I mean, Mr. Stark won’t even let you swim thirty minutes after you eat, what makes you think he’s going to be okay with Spider-Man introducing himself to the streets of LA?” 

Peter zipped up the bag. “He’s going to be fine with it, because he’s not going to find out.” 

“Peter- “

“Him and Pepper are going to be so preoccupied with work, they’re not even going to notice- “

“Notice what?”

Peter shot up from the floor and turned on his heel. To his absolute, vacation ruining horror, Tony stood in the doorway, with an arched eyebrow, waiting for him to finish the sentence. Peter cursed the universe, cursed anything and everything that was wired in his brain that made it impossible for him to keep secrets. 

He stared back at Tony, stayed quiet, and started to believe that the longer he lived with Tony, the better he got at these interrogations.

“Notice what?” Tony repeated, with more emphasize, emphasis that demanded to be answer.

“Umm nothing.”

“Yeah, no. Try again,” said Tony. Peter looked down at the bookbag by his feet, and Tony moved on. “Ned?”

“Ummm… friendly Malibu Spider-Man?” 

“ _Ned_ ,” said Peter.

“He was looking right at me!”

Tony’s eyes shifted between the two of them, before resting on Peter. “Uh, Spider-Man. Conference in the hallway, please.”

Peter marched off to join Tony in the hallway. He held on to a little bit of hope that maybe Tony wouldn’t care, that he would take pity on him and consider that he hasn’t gotten to be Spider-Man in months and let him continue with his mission. It was false hope.   

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on – “

“No,” said Tony. “No Spider-Manning in LA. Spider-Man stays in Queens, or at least in New York.” 

“But Tony – “ 

“Did you stop think about this at all? Maybe stop to consider how easy it would be for all the online conspiracy theorists to connect the dots about your identity when Spider-Man starts appearing in LA during the same month Tony Stark and his son are there, too?” 

“Well, no,” said Peter. He hated Tony’s no, but he hated that he actually had a good reason for it more. “I just want to get back into suit. I’m out of practice.”

“There will be plenty of time for you to catch up with Spider-Man when we get back home, alright? This is a vacation for you. Relax,” he told him. He gave his shoulder a squeeze, started to walk down the hall, only to turn around again. “FRIDAY’s watching you, when Pepper and I aren’t here, remember that.” 

Peter frowned at that, wondered if he could somehow fool the AI, as he watched Tony disappeared into his and Pepper’s bedroom. He’d figure it out. He’d get to wear the suit and fly between buildings some time that month. Peter was determined, despite the threat of conspiracy theorists, or paparazzi with cameras. 

And he was pretty confident that he’d be able to pull it off, even with Tony knowing he was up to something, up until breakfast. The table was quiet, just the clicking of silverware against dishes, as Peter tried to focus on eating instead of Tony’s staring at him, looking at him in a way that suggested he was mentally scanning through his thoughts and discovered Peter had no intention of listening to him. 

“Let’s do something fun today,” said Tony. “Go out, see some nature.”

Pepper frowned. “We’re here to work, Tony.” 

“We have plenty of time for that,” he said. “Our first full day here should be a family day. We can take the kids out somewhere fun.”

Peter knew what Tony was doing, knew he was just trying to distract him and keep hovering and stop Spider-Man from swinging through the streets of LA, but he liked the idea of a family day. Even with Ned around to hang out with all day, Peter admitted, only to himself, he would Tony and Pepper when they were inevitably tied up with SI work.

Pepper wasn’t hard to convince, and instead of somehow hiking a ride into the city with his Spidey suit, Peter and Ned found themselves loaded into the backseat of one of Tony’s more spacious sports car, ready for family day. 

* * *

Tony took the kids, and Pepper, to a nature preservation, and spent the day subtly taking pictures of Peter feeding kangaroos and sloths. It was decidedly better than how his day would have been spent otherwise, in and out of meetings, signing documents he’d only pretended to have read trusting that Pepper did enough reading for the both of them. And besides that, his family needed more photos together, of them off doing family things.

They needed videos, too, and that was what Tony was doing when Pepper approached him. He had his phone out, recording Peter and Ned on the last activity of their tour. They were swimming around in a pool filled with baby sea otters, playing with them, and letting them lick their faces.

Needless to say, Tony was more than happy to sit out on the sidelines and be in charge of the camera. 

“Could you look any more like a soccer dad than you do right now?” asked Pepper.

“It depends,” said Tony. “Is it a good look?”

“Definitely.” 

“Then yes, yes I can.”

Tony pulled her closer with his free hand, wrapping his arm around her shoulder while they shared a kiss. Splashing from the sea otter pool broke them apart. Peter laughed, loud and genuine, as one of the smallest otters climbed up his chest and sniffed at his face. 

“That’s adorable,” said Tony, shifting his eyes back to Pepper. “He’s adorable. We need to make another one- “ 

“-Tony- “ 

“Just hear me out,” he said. “I figure your DNA’s strong enough to supersede any of the obvious Stark defects the baby would get from me, then we would have two perfect kids.”

Tony looked back over at Peter. Him and Pepper were the best things that had ever happened to him, and he was ready for one more. 

“I love your defects,” said Pepper. “But I’m afraid any child we’d have you’d smother in sunscreen.”

He glared at her, and she returned it with a laugh and smile.

“Or just smother them, in general.” 

“So, what am I supposed to do? Let him get sunburned?” 

“Yes, then he’d learn, and he’d realize he should trust you when you tell him to do something.”

Tony straightened the camera, making sure Peter was back in the shot. He was smiling, having fun, happy. He wondered how long that smile would last if the entire world figured out Peter Parker was the boy under the Spider-Man mask. Stopping Peter from his plans would be tricky, but Tony was determined to achieve it with distractions and obstacles that would earn the least amount of whining from the boy. 

“If we don’t have a kid soon,” said Tony. He pushed down on the red button to stop recording. “I’m going to have to adopt another one.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even adopted Peter yet. Officially.” 

Yet. That was a conversation looming off in the inevitable future, and something that would hopefully happen, just as soon as Tony worked up enough courage to ask Peter if he actually wanted to be adopted. It was a conversation Tony dreaded, but also, at the same time, a conversation he felt needed to be rushed into. 

Adoption was permanent. No one, not even May if she decided to, could take Peter away once they went through with it, and there was always this tiny shred of panic that existed within Tony that life was just waiting to snatch up and steal one of the only truly golden things to ever happen to him.

It brought Tony back to his need to create distractions and obstacles, to save Peter for making a mistake would probably cause the whole world to learn his identity. That might have been a stretch, but with Peter, Tony didn’t take any chances.

“Make sure you get a few more pictures,” said Tony. “I have to go make a phone call.”

Once he stepped away, he called in a babysitter. One that he trusted with his own life, and one he would have to bribe with something better than a bonus to get him on a plane to California in less than twenty-four hours’ notice. Happy Hogan.


	2. watches, haircuts, and arcades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have seen the trailer!! I have seen the photo and I've been shouting all day about it!! I'm not ready for Endgame!!!! But it's so close!!
> 
> Here is some fluff, because we all needed it in times like these.

“Please don’t do this to me.”  

“It isn’t up for discussion.”

This reply from Tony was immediate, and final, just like the last few times Peter attempted to change his mind. His pleas weren’t having any effect. Peter could tell. Tony didn’t even look like he was paying attention to him at all. 

He stood in front of a full-length mirror, straightening his tie and flicking his fingers through his hair, while Peter glared at him from the cushioned bench in the center of the closet. It wasn’t really a closet. It was too big. It was more like a whole other room entirely, one that consisted just clothes and mirrors and jewelry, and for a reason Peter couldn’t fathom, a rack full of expensive watches. 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

“He’s not a babysitter. He’s your bodyguard.”

“Spider-Man doesn’t need a bodyguard.”

“Spider-Man isn’t here,” said Tony. “Spider-Man stays in New York.”

Peter groaned, dug his elbows into his knees and gripped his chin with his hands. He continued his glaring at Tony, which continued to go ignored, as Tony stepped away from the mirror and grabbed a watch from the rack. He held it, lose, in his hand, and turned around to face Peter for the first time since his complaining started.

“Do I need to go over the ground rules one more time?”

“No.”

Tony eyes darkened, with wisdom maybe, and he begun a speech anyway. “No tricks. No running off or getting lost or disappearing. No tormenting Happy, and absolutely no Spider-Man, got it?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good,” said Tony. Now that he was satisfied with Peter’s answer, he put his focus back on his watch, and began fastening it around his wrist. “Pepper and I have to get going.”

“Why do you even need a watch? Here in the twenty-first century we have cell phones for that,” said Peter, as he stood up from the bench.

“Really kid? I’m the futurist and you’re telling me about the twenty-first century?”

Peter shrugged and Tony turned back around, back towards the rack of watches. He selected another one.

“It’s not about functionality,” said Tony. He tossed him the watch. “Try that on.”

Peter held it in front of his face, looking at it with suspicion. He supposed if it were about functionality, it’d be just the same as the watch Tony designed for him. The one he conveniently left back home in New York. The one meant to track him and his vitals and anything else helicopter Tony felt like he should know.

“Is this going to spy on me?”

“Of course not,” said Tony. “I have your cellphone for that. It’s the twenty-first century.” 

Peter clicked the watch to his wrist. It was heavy, nothing at all like the plastic red and gold Iron Man watch he used to wear when he was ten. This one was real, and probably cost more than a year’s rent where him and May used to live in Queens.

“It looks good. Suits you,” said Tony.

The words were just words, but Peter immediately tagged them with light and gold and beautiful sunsets. It was pride, he decided, and it pulled at the corners of his mouth. He shut that down. Put his glare and frown back on, so Tony would understand the misery he was causing by assigning him a babysitter when he was fifteen-years-old.

“Don’t look so sad,” said Tony. He put his arm around him and lead him back through his bedroom and back out into the hall. “Would you rather stay in this house all day long, or get to go out and explore the city?” 

Peter knew what Ned’s answer would be. He hadn’t stopped gushing about the Malibu house since they arrived, but Peter was used it. He wanted to see LA. He wanted to see it without adult supervision, and through his Spider-Man mask, swinging from building to building. It was the only way to properly see any city.

He didn’t answer Tony’s though, instead opting to silently watch him disappear down the stairs, on his way to Stark Industries. With a sigh, Peter headed back to his bedroom.

Ned didn’t take his eyes off the computer screen when Peter entered. His hands were furiously working one of the controllers, and his concentration couldn’t be broken, at least not visually.

“No luck?”

“No,” said Peter. “We’re stuck with Happy all day.”

Ned didn’t seem surprised or bothered by the information. He kept blasting aliens away in the game, and Peter let his eyes drift over to his desk, where his web-shooters lay nearly forgotten. It’d been so long. He needed to be Spider-Man again, but if he couldn’t do that, he could at least put his shooters to good use.

He grabbed them from his desk, and created a hammock made from webbing up on the ceiling. He climbed the wall, flung himself inside of it, and waited for Happy Hogan to arrive and escort them around LA.

As he laid there, rocking back and forth up in the air, closer to the ceiling than to the ground, he stared at the watch on his wrist while he thought about all the ways he could escape from Happy. He decided a simple distraction was suitable. Getting caught was inevitable anyway, getting away unseen was his only priority.

When he heard Happy clogging up the stairs, then through the hallway, he carefully flipped over on his stomach to watch as he entered the room. He looked around and spotted Ned.

“Where’s the other one?”

Ned mumbled something inaudible as a response, still focused only on the game, and Peter grinned as he flipped down from the ceiling. He landed, with grace, on his feet, just a few spaces in front of Happy, who jumped in place at his abrupt appearance.

“Hey Happy.”

He released a breath, slow and frustrated, and looked him over. Suspicion was in his eyes already. It made him wonder what exactly Tony told him.

“Of course you were on the ceiling,” said Happy. “Why wouldn’t a teenage boy be hanging from the ceiling?”

Peter shrugged and tried to look as innocent as possible. 

“Let’s just go get this over with.”

Peter shouted at Ned, who finally powered down the computer and started towards them. On their way out of the bedroom, when Happy wasn’t looking, Peter slid his web-shooters into his bookbag before putting it on his back and walking out of the room. He ignored Happy’s still suspicious when it returned to him, as if everything were normal, as if he wasn’t planning an escape attempt.

* * *

As it turned out, Tony had left them with an itinerary, and the first item of the list put Peter in a barber’s chair, staring at himself in the mirror while he was given the haircut Tony claimed he needed the day before. Paying for haircuts was still a strange idea to Peter. Back in Queens, May cut his hair, but he supposed going to the barber was an experience that was growing on him.

His hair was shorter and fresh and styled. He flicked his fingers through it a few times, declared it looked fine, then paid and tipped. He used the credit card Tony had given him, the one he normally never used, and charged something extra. When the three of them walked out of the barber’s and into the California sunshine, Peter had a small white bag filled with hair products recommended to him.

“They… smell nice,” said Peter, to Ned, refusing to admit it was about vanity, that he just liked the way it made his hair look.

The next stop on Tony’s great plan for their day was this fancy pizza place, the kind of restaurant Peter and Ned would have enjoyed so much more without Happy or his bad mood. Every conversation stilled, even when the pizza came to distract them from the awkward, it couldn’t completely make up for the fact that they were all miserably bored. It clear Happy didn’t want to be there anymore than the boys wanted him there, so Peter sensed his opportunity, and he took it.

“You don’t have to eat with us,” said Peter. “Or hang out with us. We can entertain ourselves.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” 

“I think you’ve suffered enough.”

For a couple of seconds, Peter thought he had him convinced, by some miracle, but his dreams were crushed when Happy narrowed his eyes. 

“Eat your lunch.”

Hopelessly, he looked out the window, ate pizza in more awkward silence and made lines in the condensation with his finger on his soda glass.

There was one final item on the list, and when they walked into the building, Peter almost wished he was determined to find an opportunity to escape and be Spider-Man. It was an arcade, that went several stories up, and that awkward silence from lunch was replaced with the sounds of old game machines.

“This. Place. Is. Heaven,” said Ned. His head was turned straight up, and his eyes were budging from their sockets.

Happy looked at him with a glare. Peter looked at him with envy.

He wanted to be excited like Ned. He was in an arcade with unlimited funds and his best friend. Tony knew what he was doing, knew all the best distractions, and it made Peter resent those parenting books he’d been reading. He wanted to forget about being Spider-Man, enjoy the arcade, like Ned clearly wanted, but he shouldn’t.

Happy’s phone rang, and before he answered it, he stepped off the to side.

Peter nudged Ned’s arm. “Dude, you have to create a distraction.”

“Are you sure about this?” asked Ned. “Look at this place, man.”  

“Positive,” said Peter. His eyes locked on the to-go cup of soda in Ned’s hand. “Just spill your drink on him. He’ll have to go to the bathroom to dry off.”

“I can’t do that!”

They bickered back and forth, until Happy came sauntering back over to them, and Peter gave his friend a pleading look. Ned faked a sneeze, faked losing his balance and collided drink first into Happy’s side, crushing the paper cup and sending soda seeping through Happy’s suit jacket and Ned’s t-shirt.

Ned took two steps away from Happy, saw his glare, and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Happy." 

Happy gave a slow exhale. “Next time Tony calls me I’m not answering the phone.”

“Fine with me,” said Peter.

“You,” said Happy, ignoring Peter and grabbing Ned by the arm. “This way.”

He stormed off, with Ned, towards the bathroom to clean up, just like Peter predicted.

So simple, so easy.

Peter sprinted back to the double doors, towards his freedom. He reached out to push the door open but paused at the sight of a watch on his wrist. It stalled him long enough for him to remember he’d made decisions like this before. They were the wrong ones then, and perhaps it was the wrong one now. 

“Give that back!”

Peter turned, saw the voice was coming from a little girl, who was jumping up and down, trying to reach a toy lightsaber. It was held beyond her reach, by an older but still young boy. He wore a grin on his face that made him look like Flash.

“It’s mine,” said girl.

“Not anymore.”

Peter let go of the door. Spider-Man helped the little guy. Even if that meant a child being bullied in an arcade. The streets of LA, he decided, could wait.

It was his easiest mission yet. It was a simple walk to the kids, an easier grab of the toy lightsaber and a graceful dodge when the boy tried to punch his leg. He handed the toy back to its owner, the boy glaring at him the entire time. 

“Hey! That’s not fair,” he said. “I’m telling my mom." 

He ran off as Peter laughed under his breath. The girl smiled, thanked him and walked away to find her dad, swinging the lightsaber round as if she were daring someone else to take it from her.

When Happy and Ned returned from the bathroom, Peter was swiping his credit card at the token machine.

“You’re still here,” Happy stated.

“Yeah,” said Peter, with a shrug. “Where else would I be?”

Happy didn’t smile, but his face loosened into less of a frown. Ned, on the other hand, was completely beaming as Peter handed him a plastic bag filled with the most tokens either of them had ever seen in their entire lives. Maybe they could salvage the day. Maybe Peter took get over having a glorified babysitter, just that one time, if it meant he could a day beating Ned at old school arcade game.

That was when it happened. Out of nowhere, a lady gripping her thief son’s arm, stormed up to Peter and planted herself just feet away from him.

“Just who do you think you are?”

“Ummm…”

An answer was stuck on his lips, but he didn’t have to speak for himself. Happy move in between them. The only sight Peter saw was the back of his suit jacket, until he shuffled to his side so he could see what was happening. One look at the woman’s face made him thankful he wasn’t dealing with the crazy alone.

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes,” she said. “He stole from my son.”

“What? No, he stole it from some other kid. I only took it to give – “

“-now he’s calling my son a liar when it’s obvious he’s the one who’s lying.” The mother took several steps closer, eyed the bag of tokens in Ned’s hand and made a move to snatch it. Happy caught her hand and blocked her. She blinked a couple of times, shocked, then moved on to outrage. “It’s only fair. He took the laser sword from my son, so now my son deserves those tokens.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No he’s not getting them,” said Happy.

The mother’s eyes turned to slits as she stomped on Happy’s foot. To his credit, he didn’t seem phased by it. The crowd of kids behind him, all with their cellphones out recording, gasped, leaving Peter to wonder how much a video of Tony Stark’s ward and bodyguard getting into a confrontation would sell to TMZ.

“I’m getting security,” she said.

“Okay but, he is security!” yelled Ned, as she dragged her son away.

Peter looked back over at Happy. He was bent down, trying to remove scuff marks from his shoe. Maybe Spider-Man did need a body guard sometimes. Maybe he could sort of admit he was glad that it was Happy.

“Thanks, Happy,” said Peter.

“That’s what I’m here for, kid,” he told him, straightening back up. “To fend off the crazy, and no one is crazier than parents when it comes to their kids.”

It was a statement Peter knew was undoubtedly true. For better or for worse. Peter was just glad Tony’s type of crazy didn’t involve harassing innocent arcade patrons.

Security did end up showing up. Happy showed them his identification, his credentials as a Stark Industries employee, and explained to them he would need to secure the building for the VIP. It took Peter a few seconds to realize that meant him. By the time he was done wrapping his brain around being a very important person, the mother and her thief-son were being escorted from the building.

The day, after that, was salvageable. They scouted out the prize counter. Picked out the ones they wanted to win as gifts and went to work on the games. Even Happy helped. Once or twice, Peter thought he saw him smiling.

* * *

Pepper and Tony were already back home when Happy dropped Peter and Ned off. They were in the living room, discussing dinner plans, when Peter interrupted them by sitting between them on the couch. He leaned back in the cushions, pulled is bookbag on his lap and started to rummage through it, eventually cutting Tony off mid-sentence.

“I brought presents,” said Peter. He brought the bag closer to his chest when Tony tried to peer inside. The last thing he needed was for him to see that the Spidey suit and web-shooters were there. 

He lifted a bunny plush out of the bag and handed it to Pepper.

“Oh Peter, this is so sweet.”

“Excuse me?” said Tony. “When I get you a rabbit it’s impractical and when he does it it’s sweet?”

“I’m not going to justify that with a response,” said Pepper. She wrapped her arm lose around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Pete.”

Peter sent a triumphant grin at Tony before revealing his present. Tony, hesitantly, took a tiny helicopter toy from the palm of Peter’s hand. Unimpressed, he flicked its propellers and watched them spin.

“Am I missing a joke here?”

“You know,” said Peter. “Because you’re like a helicopter. You hover.”

Pepper busted out into laughs. Tony wanted to laugh. Peter could tell by the way his mouth twitched a little, and by the way he tucked the toy helicopter into the pocket of his suit jacket for safekeeping. 

“You think this is funny now,” said Tony. He stood up from the couch and began to walk away. “But just wait until both your birthdays.” 

Pepper and Peter looked at each other, horrified, and once Tony disappeared, mutually agreed that it was good they at least had each other to survive whatever horrible or outrageous presents Tony planned to send their way.


	3. practically

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Happy Wednesday!! I hope everyone's anxiety over Endgame isn't too bad!! Please enjoy some fluff!! 
> 
> Just a heads up that I'm changing my username on here!! If you're reading this and it's past Wednesday, it's probably already changed, but it's still me! Springtime22!! Just a different name!

The people from the arcade, the ones with their cellphone cameras out, didn’t sell their videos to TMZ. They posted them to YouTube.

It’d been funny, at first, hearing Tony tease Happy about becoming an internet celebrity, but then the views kept going up. The comments kept pouring in, and no matter how many times Pepper or Tony or even Ned told him to stop reading them, Peter couldn’t.

His mind always went back to that video. His thumb opened YouTube automatically whenever his phone was in his hand. He never tried to fight it, knew it was a losing battle. People were talking about him, speculating about him, and he needed to know the rumors, even if knowing them was slowing driving him insane. 

Even if it was distracting him from being Spider-Man, even if it was distracting him from the one event him and Ned had been looking forward to the most, the Star Wars premiere. Even if it meant ignoring Tony, who was invading his bedroom, attempting to get him to climb down from his web hammock to get ready for said Star Wars premiere. 

Tony talked fast, saying things that bounced right off Peter’s ears as he scrolled through the YouTube comment section. He couldn’t understand or even begin to wrap his mind around why this video was so popular. The confrontation at the arcade wasn’t entertaining. Not enough to warrant a million views and counting, but Peter suspected the view count had more to do with the clickbait title than it did the actual content.

_lady harasses Peter Stark at an arcade_

Peter Stark. 

The title caused his biggest problem, caused the speculating and the rumors, and probably, had spawned the comment section’s favorite conspiracy theory. That Peter was Tony’s biological child. That he was illegitimate, and a son Tony would never officially claim. 

“Peter,” said Tony. His head was titled, gazing up at Peter. “Are you even listening to me?” 

“Yeah, for sure,” said Peter. He refreshed the page and looked for fresh comments. Maybe a few people to debunk what obviously wasn’t true. Peter wasn’t a Stark. 

“Then get down here,” he told him.

With an eye roll Peter knew Tony wouldn’t see, he rolled off the hammock and fell with a soft thud to the floor. 

“Please tell me you weren’t looking at that stupid video again,” said Tony. Peter couldn’t successfully lie to Tony, so his silence answered for him, and after his silence, came an explanation. A full detailed account of the theory that bothered him so much. “That’s ridiculous, of course I would claim you.”

Peter frowned. He hadn’t expected that would be the most ridiculous part of the theory to Tony. He expected that Tony would think, like he did, that the most ridiculous part was how easily everyone seemed to be buying into the idea that they were related biologically. The thought brought back the urge to look at his phone again, to check to see if there were anyone with common sense denying this theory, but he never made it past his lock screen. 

“Ok. Enough. Hand over your phone.” 

“But- “

“It’s almost time to go, and you need to get ready,” said Tony. “Hand it over.” 

Peter gave up his cellphone to Tony’s waiting hand, then allowed Tony to push him towards his closet, where his suit hung. He changed quickly. He still wasn’t used to wearing suits, but the past months he lived with Tony taught him how to at least get it on and make it look decent. He paused at the tie. He knew how to put that on, too. He learned with May.

The memory was still there, and painful, even now that there was distance, even now that he was starting to feel better. He looked at the tie in his hands, then back at his reflection in the mirror, then made a decision.  

A decision to erase that moment from his memories the same with May erased him from her life.

He walked back into his bedroom, where Tony stood still waiting for him, with the tie in his hand. He held it up. 

“Umm I need help with this,” said Peter. He wondered if Tony would call out his lie, would state what was obvious to both of them, that Peter had worn ties to galas and parties with him and Pepper a few times, and had never needed help before. Tony’s eyes darkened, and he titled his chin up, looking at him as if he were trying to solve a puzzle.

“You need help tying your tie?” 

“Yeah.”

Tony looked at his watch and must have decided they didn’t have time for an interrogation or follow-up questions. “Okay, come on.” 

They moved in front of a mirror, so Peter could watch and learn, and he did. He watched Tony tie the tie around his collar. He listened to him explain what he was doing, even though he already knew. 

Peter stared into the mirror. At himself. At his fresh hair and his expensive suit. At the tie now around his neck. Somehow, Tony made it look better than Peter would have, anyway. From their reflections, he felt like he got it, how so many people believed rumors that he was Stark by birth. He wasn’t exactly the same Peter Parker that lived in Queens anymore. 

Maybe that was what the cameras captured that day at the arcade, and would again, in less than an hour, when Peter stepped out a fancy car with his best friend and new family. The world shifted under his feet, the room spun, and although his breath was still coming, he felt like something was choking him.

“Uh, maybe,” said Peter, as he took a breath and will the panic away. “Maybe we shouldn’t go. Maybe we should just watch it in our theater, here.” 

“What?” asked Tony. He gripped Peter’s shoulders and spun him around, so they were facing each other.

“I mean, there’s just going to be a lot of people there, and press and actors – “

“-That’s kind of the point of going to a premiere, Brainiac,” said Tony. He frowned at him, his eyes darkened again, and Peter felt guilty under his gaze. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. It was a thoughtful and generous present. One Peter didn’t feel like he deserved. “I thought you were excited about this. God knows I had to listen to you and Ned talk about this hotshot director and what you were going to ask him for hours – “

“-it didn’t last for hours.”

“Yes it did. It was the entire flight from New York,” said Tony, and Peter sighed.

Tony stared at him again, the same way he stared at him before, like his eyes were scanners that saw right through him or were at least trying to. Before Peter could react, Tony had a hold of his arm and guided him to the bed, where they both sat down.

“What’s going on?” 

“It’s just… I mean, the press is going to be there,” said Peter. “And they’ll be asking questions.”

Peter thought it was pretty safe to assume videos of reporters asking Tony Stark questions with him in the background would spark a lot more attention and a lot more speculation. There was a part of Peter that knew he could only hide behind the conspiracy theory for so long before the world knew the truth.

He wasn’t a Stark. He was just unwanted by his real family. 

“This is about the YouTube video again,” said Tony, and when he got no response, he continued. “Peter… that’s going to happen. People are going to talk about you, and they’re going to get it wrong and I’m not denying it’s annoying as hell, but you can’t stay inside because people have too much time on their hands and a keyboard under their fingers.”

 All that was easy for Tony to say. He’d grown up with all this. He was used to it. 

“I’m not going to make you go, but listen, this is just nerves,” said Tony. “And you’ll be mad at yourself in a few weeks if you sit this out. Not to mention, Ned would probably kill you.” 

That was without a doubt true. He couldn’t do that to Ned, who was such a good friend, and got so little in return for it. Between ignoring his calls, and not having as much time for him, Peter wasn’t going to be winning any friend of the year awards. He owed it to him. He could deal with his nerves and anxiety if it meant Ned got to have a good night.

Peter took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go.”

Downstairs Pepper and Ned were waiting for them. Ned wasn’t nervous, like Peter, or at least didn’t seem to be. He was jittery and excited and rambling about everyone they were going to meet. Peter gave a tight smile, and nodded, as they all walked outside to the car Happy had waiting for them.

He sent Tony a panicked look while Pepper and Ned got inside the car, but he couldn’t read the one he got in exchange. Tony’s eyes were covered by sunglasses, so Peter didn’t know they must have had sympathy in them until after they were seated in the black car and Tony’s arm slid over his shoulders. 

Tony took off his sunglasses with his free hand, and offered them up to Peter, who took them, hesitant and confused.

“Put them on,” said Tony. His low tone made it clear his words were just for Peter. “It helps. Puts distance between you and them.”

With one skeptical look at Tony, he put the sunglasses on, and wondered if his earlier assumption that handling the media was any easier for Tony. He thought about all the times he saw Tony photographed in magazines wearing sunglasses, now supposing their purpose was the opposite of the watch. Not for style, necessarily, but all for function. 

Arriving at the premiere was still stressful. Getting out of the car and stepping into flashing camera lights and an excited crowd still made Peter grip the cuffs of his suit, but it was missing an edge. There was distance. Peter didn’t have to keep the panic out of his eyes, and for all the press knew, he was calm and collected as they snapped pictures of him helping Pepper out of the car.

In the end, Tony only stopped to take one question, from someone near the end of the line, who’d pointed to Peter and Ned and asked who they were.

“My son,” said Tony, he pulled Peter forward by wrapping an arm around him. He nodded in Ned’s direction. “And his friend.” 

“Yes, but… biologically?”

“Practically,” said Tony, then dismissed them. All of them.

He pushed Peter forward, away from the crowds and cameras, and into the theater. Peter walked it with a smile on his face, because practically was vague. It was indirect. It was a confirmation, but also a non-answer. No doubt, there would be a lot of speculation by what Tony meant by practically, except now it seemed funny. Like the press and the conspiracy theorists were at the end of the joke instead of Peter. 

The rest of the night was magic. It was shaking hands with the director of Star Wars, and it was having conversations with the actors, who were all just as star struck to meet Iron Man as Peter and Ned were to be meeting them. That, and the press being locked outside for the most part, made Peter forget about his stress, made him glad he hadn’t picked staying inside and watching it in the theater at home. 

And the movie itself was pretty great. A legitimately good Star Wars film, but Peter thought he’d probably remember the word practically over any other word of dialogue. Practically. Virtually. In effect. As if it were common sense. All those words were better than biological. 

On the way home, when he didn’t have his cell phone and the comment section to fuel his anxiety, instead he listed all the definitions of practically in his head until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. He slumped over to his side, head falling over on Tony’s shoulder, and coasted into his dreams.


	4. really old movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter!! 
> 
> A special shout out and thank you to Ramble_On for listen to me ramble about this chapter and who had the idea for Happy's gift in this chapter!! 
> 
> Please enjoy and I hope everyone is doing okay pre-endgame. Actually I hope we'll all be doing okay post-endgame to, but anyway, enjoy the chapter!!

Peter stared up at the ceiling with his arms folded together across his stomach, and with a frown. His room was dark, Ned was snoring, and that meant it was almost time for attempt number three. 

His previous attempts ended quickly, and without even a hint of success, but Peter saw no reason this one would end in failure. He’d waited longer into the night this time. This time he wouldn’t be climbing out a window and scaling down the side of the Malibu mansion, like attempt number one, or simply trying to walk out of the house while Pepper and Tony were both still awake, like attempt number two. 

He’d given up on escaping from Happy during the day, deciding it was more practical to wait until the sun fell and the house got quiet to head off into the city as Spider-Man. More practical, but less achievable. Tony wasn’t as easily distracted as Happy, and he was just as determined for Peter to stay in bed as Peter was to leave it.  

Attempts one and two both ended that way, with Tony sending him back to bed, and both attempts one and two made Peter a little more frustrated, a little more resentful. Attempt number three, Peter mused, still staring up at his ceiling, was about more than being Spider-Man. 

He waited a few more minutes before slipping out of his bed. His steps were incredibly light as he crossed his bedroom, grabbed his bookbag off the back of his desk chair and crept into the hallway. Peter was extra careful on the stairs, took them one at a time, but all of his care and caution didn’t amount to anything. 

He stood in the foyer, so incredibly close to the front door, when he heard the unmistakable sound of Tony clearing his throat. He forced his head to turn, forced himself to look over and see Tony, sitting casually in the living room, a glass of whiskey in one hand, and his other shrewd across the top of the couch.

Probably, he’d been waiting for him. 

Probably, he’d known about Peter’s plan before Peter even knew about his plan. 

“Got a hot date?” asked Tony. 

Peter didn’t answer. He clenched his fists and let his eyes wander back to the front door. He could still leave. He could just walk out and ignore Tony. What would he even do to stop him? May never did anything. She let him sneak out and pretended not to know about it. Tony stopping him was confusing. He couldn’t figure out if it meant he loved him more, or less, or just… differently. 

Tony made a motion with his hands, beckoning at him to come join him on the couch, and Peter dropped his shoulders. He looked at the floor while he padded out of the foyer, away from the front door and into the living room. Peter sat next to him, but left distance. 

“This whole teenage defiance was cute the first couple of times,” said Tony. He leaned forward and put his whiskey down on the glass coffee table in front of them. “But it’s getting old, bud, and I’m tired of playing this game with you.”

“Sorry to be so exhausting,” said Peter. 

Tony took a breath and released. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” 

Peter leaned back against the couch. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way with Tony, at least not since living with him, not since the ferry, but he felt like he was in trouble. Like he crossed some invisible line and was sat there waiting for a verdict, so he kept his mouth clenched shut, like his fists, while the clocked ticked away in silence.

There was another tired sigh from Tony, another sip from the glass of whiskey he reclaimed from the coffee table, before Peter was back under his gaze, 

“Why are you doing this?” asked Tony. “Why is so important to you to be Spider-Man right this minute?”

“Why does it matter?” Peter asked him back. “You’re not going to let me go out no matter what I say.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “No I’m not, but maybe if you say it out loud you’ll realize how idiotic it is to put your identity at risk just to feel like a hero again for a few hours.” 

“So now I’m idiotic.”

“Twisting my words around to make it sound like I’m the bad guy in this conversation is inherently idiotic, yes,” said Tony. There was a snap to his voice, an edge that told Peter he was getting closer to the end of his patience, and Peter was feeling just petty enough to go ahead and push him over the cliff. “It’s also beneath you.” 

Peter shifted around on the couch, mentally reeling, trying to come up with something to say that would bite him back, but couldn’t. Tony’s last statement brought enough guilt with it that Peter just wanted the conversation to be over.

“… I guess you’re sending me back to bed.”

“No,” said Tony. “I’m gonna give you a choice. You can come down to the workshop, and help me out with some upgrades, or you can go back to bed.”

He was lost again, caught up between the temptation that was Tony’s workshop and his desire to hold on to his resentment, to his need to make Tony suffer like he was making him suffer by not letting him hone his skills as Spider-Man. Tony was distracting him from his mission, that should’ve been his number one priority, but instead he’s been off getting haircuts and seeing movies. 

And there was a sting that came with feeling like he was being handled, like Tony read some manual and now thought their relationship was a series of the right commands on a computer screen.

“Did you learn that trick from your parenting books?” 

“Hey,” said Tony. “Watch the attitude.” 

“Whatever. I’m just going to go to bed.” 

He stood up from the couch and had almost made it out of the living room when Tony stopped him.

“You can leave your bookbag with me,” said Tony. 

Peter stopped, and spun around on his heel. 

“What?” 

“I told you, I’m tired of playing this game and I’ve given you plenty of chances. I’m not taking it forever, just until we get back home.” 

Peter was crushed. There was a building on top of him, and he couldn’t breathe, but he forced out shallow, shaky breaths anyway, made his chest move up and down, so Tony couldn’t see how much panic taking his suit away, for the second time, caused. 

Glaring at Tony, he stripped the bookbag from his shoulders, dropped it to the floor by the stairs and retreated into his bedroom where Ned was still snoring. He slipped back under his comforter, crossed his arms across his stomach and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t go to sleep. 

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a silent affair. Only the sound of silverware scrapping against china, and the sound of glasses hitting the table after sips were taken, were there to fill the noiseless void. Peter pretended he didn’t notice it was awkward or unusual. He kept his eyes on his food, and he ignored the way Tony occasionally stared him down while he took drinks from his coffee mug.

Peter was too tired for talking, and he was definitely too tired for arguing, which is what he was confident any attempt at conversation would inevitably turn into. He was still steaming from last night, from Tony taking his suit away and acting so self-righteous about it. 

The first words of the morning belonged to Pepper, after she finished with her food, and announced she’d be spending the day with Peter and Ned, taking them shopping in the city for new clothes.

It was another scheme, another way to distract Peter from Spider-Man and his misery, and he was too tired for that, too. 

“I don’t need new clothes,” said Peter. 

“Dude,” said Ned. “Your tennis shoes have holes in them.”

Peter shot Ned a look, but he didn’t even have the courtesy to even look like he felt bad about his comment.

“Think about it this way,” said Pepper. “We’ll get this over with today, we’ll get your sizes figured out and by the time we’re ready to shop for school clothes in the fall, you can do it all online.” 

Peter looked down and pushed around a few pieces of fruit with his fork. He didn’t want to go shopping, he just wanted his suit back, and a nap. 

“No pouting,” said Pepper, as she stood up from the table. “You can ask Tony, it never works. If you stop sulking and hurry up, we can pick up that new Star Wars Lego set while we’re at the mall.” 

“I’m not sulking or pouting,” said Peter. “And I’m too old to be bribed with Legos.”

“ _Peter_ ,” said Ned. His eyes had gone wide just at the mere mention of a new Lego set, and Peter dropped his fork with a sigh. He supposed he didn’t really have a choice, anyway. 

Peter stayed at the table, twisting a cloth napkin between his fingers, waiting while Pepper and Ned grabbed a few things from upstairs. He looked up and caught Tony during one of his stare downs. 

“Hey,” he told him. “You’re mad at me, alright? Don’t take it out on Pep, and… just try to have a good time today.” 

He stayed quiet as Tony stood up from the table, and left the dinning room, probably on his way to SI. It was amazing that Tony could even find the way to his own office building without Pepper, let alone survive the entire day without her. The callous thought brought a small smile, but it wasn’t a genuine one. 

* * *

Peter rested his head against the window as Happy drove them through the city and didn’t contribute to Pepper and Ned’s small talk. His mood made their conversation awkward, had been making their entire trip awkward, but Peter didn’t have enough energy to care, even if he hated himself for it. 

Their first two stops had been at department stores, where Peter moped around and was absolutely no help to Pepper as she pushed him into dressing rooms with stacks of clothes. They left the stores with the stuff that fit him, all of it, because Peter wouldn’t offer up a solid opinion on what he liked or disliked.

He was lucky Pepper had good taste. Everything she picked out for him were things he could imagine wearing, and that, coupled with her patience, was guilt inducing. By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the outdoor mall, then got settled into a booth at a restaurant for lunch, Peter felt miserable. 

Tony took away his suit. Again. He was tired. He was acting obnoxious and spoiled, and he could see the way he was acting was stupid, knew he would regret it later, but still couldn’t stop. 

“So,” said Pepper, once their food arrived in front of them. “Where do you want to go first, Peter?”

Home. Back to New York, back to his real room in the penthouse, but he wouldn’t dare say so out loud. He’d already disappointed Pepper enough in one day, so he opted to look down at his food and say nothing at all.

Pepper offered up a sigh. It sounded like disappointment. Like the thing Peter was trying to avoid but instead brought about anyway.

“Alright,” she said. “I give up. I know you’re upset, so maybe you just need space. Why don’t you and Ned browse the shops and I’ll just catch a movie.” 

Peter sat up straight in his chair. “A movie?” 

“Yeah,” said Pepper. “The theatre is doing some special showings of a couple old eighties movies. Nothing you guys would be interested in.”

“We like old movies,” said Peter. Ned nodded his agreement while he sipped on his soda. “We could… could we just come with you?”

“Sure,” said Pepper. “If that’s what you want to do.”

It wasn’t until they got to the theater and got settled into the comfortable seats that fully reclined, that Peter realized he might have been tricked into having a good time. He wasn’t sure it mattered, anyway. The movie turned out to be Sixteen Candles. He’d seen it before. With May. And just like he’d erased his memory of learning to tie a tie for the first time, he pretended it was his first time watching Sixteen Candles, too. 

Peter felt like a new person when they exited the theater, or just like a rested one. He’d fallen asleep more than a couple of times during the movie. Sleep, it turned out, was needed to function like a respectful person, and movies, well they were always there to help him cope with his problems.

On their way back to the car, where Happy was probably already waiting for them, Pepper caught him eying the booth where a man sold airbrushed t-shirts.

“Oh good,” she said. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the booth. “Finally some clothes you seem interested in.” 

“No wait –“

“We need three –“ Pepper stopped mid-sentence and looked at Peter. “Should we get Happy one?”

“Uh,” said Peter. He saw it. The perfect trinket to bring back for Happy, hanging on a rack on the side of the t-shirt stand. He grabbed a white, fluffy cat car air freshener and pushed it towards the cash register. “No let’s get him this!” 

“That,” said Pepper, “is perfect.”

They shared a grin, and let Ned dictate what got airbrushed onto the t-shirts, before paying the man behind the register and walking off to find Happy and the car. He received his air freshener with both a grumble and a scowl, but as they drove off, Peter noticed he’d clipped it to the air vent despite his initial complaints.

Peter, Ned and Pepper returned to Malibu with smiles, and with matching t-shirts, and to Tony making them all dinner. It’d been better than breakfast. A few more words were exchanged at least, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t change anything.

That night, Peter still stared at the ceiling, and despite being exhausted, still couldn’t will his mind to let him fall asleep.


	5. relax about it

Peter tossed and turned, until he couldn’t anymore, until he gave up, and threw his feet over the side of the bed and onto the carpet. He paused after he sat up, stared across the dark room and took a breath before he stood.

This decision to leave his bedroom and head down to the workshop felt like a surrender. It felt like losing, in so many ways, but the worst way was his hope that Tony’s offer for him to help work on upgrades was still valid to cash in one night later. It stung a little that his hopes were worn down and crushed into taking Tony’s compromise. 

He was still angry with Tony, still fuming and frustrated that he couldn’t just let him be Spider-Man, and that he still pretended to care about him more than May did. 

But that didn’t matter.

They were just vague and faint feelings as he looked down, watched his sock covered feet descend the stairway leading to the workshop. He’d have to ignore them, push them back even further, because even if this meant Tony won, Peter knew the workshop was still a better option than staring at his ceiling in agony all night long.

He stopped at the glass door, and waited for Tony to give FRIDAY to permission to let him in. A clicking noise told Peter the lock on the door had been released. He was free to step inside. With another deep breath, he sucked in his anger and opened the door. Peter stopped once he got inside, stood back and watched Tony as he worked. 

Whatever he was doing, it was intricate. He used small tools to manipulate wires so small Peter couldn’t see them, from where he stood. It felt like several minutes before Tony turned his attention to Peter, looking up from his work. He pushed his work glasses into his hair.

“Gonna stand there all night long or you coming down to give me a hand?” 

Peter blinked a couple of times, then shuffled towards him. It felt odd, maybe just slightly awkward, being down there in his pajamas, especially since Tony still wore the same jeans he’d been wearing earlier. 

Tony checked his watch. “You’re up late.” 

“You too,” said Peter, still looking at his jeans and his black t-shirt. Both implied he hadn’t even tried to get some rest. 

“Yeah,” said Tony. He tossed the screwdriver on the worktable. “I couldn’t sleep. I had somethings on my mind.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

Tony gripped the edges of the worktable, and fixed Peter with a stare. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what’s going on in there?”

Peter got the impression that if he started to spill, Tony might be able to sleep. He might not have so many things weighing on his mind, but then, Peter would be left alone in the dark, by himself, without any escape from blinking at the ceiling.

After seconds ticked by without a response, Tony nudged the side of Peter’s head with the back of his head, and he almost smiled. It was almost back to the way it was before, before Tony had to flaunt his authority around and take his suit away for the second time.

“I – I don’t know, really,” admitted Peter.

He couldn’t put it into words why Spider-Man, right then and there, was so important to him. Maybe it wasn’t anything that was ever meant to be explained away with words, but rather some dark impulse. Something that would trigger dread and lost it wasn’t followed. Something, Peter could only admit to himself, that he didn’t have complete control over.

Peter didn’t like thinking about motivations and triggers for too long. Spider-Man always led back to May, and she always made him think about failure, about Ben.

“Well, that makes two of us,” said Tony, and Peter relaxed. A long paused followed, one that told Peter that Tony wasn’t in the prying mood, and one that was broken up by Tony pointing to a screwdriver across the worktable. “Hand me that.” 

Peter picked up the screwdriver and handed it over to Tony, who had already slid his work glasses back over his eyes. He hung an arm around Peter and pulled him in closer, then used the screwdriver to point to some wiring and parts in the gadget he’d been at work on when Peter entered. 

“See that?” asked Tony. He bent some metal back with the screwdriver and rattled off an explanation that Peter only mostly understood, or at least understood well enough to fire back with questions.

Keeping up with Tony in the workshop was a mental challenge, and one that exhausted him. It lured him right to sleep after only a few hours, on the little leather couch Tony had sitting off in the corner of the room. He wasn’t completely out until a flood of warmth hit him in the form of a throw blanket being laid over him, and he didn’t wake up until he was in the arms of one of Tony’s suits, being carried off to his bed, with Tony trailing along behind. 

He pretended he was still asleep as he was laid down on his bed, kept his eyes shut as Tony covered him back up with the comforter, and stayed as still as he could when he felt his bed shift with Tony’s weight as he sat down next to him. Tony’s hand brushed his hair off his forehead, then rested on his back with a quiet sigh.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” he said. “I’m not doing this to torture you. I… just don’t know what I’d do if someone figured out you were Spider-Man and used it to hurt you, if something happened to you and it was my fault…”

He trailed off, never finishing the sentence, but instead, rubbed his back a few more times before standing up from his bed. Peter listened as both Tony and the suit left his bedroom. As soon as he was sure they were gone, he turned over and sat up, staring at the door. 

He’d always known Tony wasn’t trying to make him miserable by telling him he couldn’t go out as Spider-Man and then taking his suit. He knew Tony just wanted to keep him safe but knowing it and hearing it out loud was different. Still frustrating, but different. 

Peter collapsed back down into his mountain of pillows, and closed his eyes, drifting off and deciding, just a couple of seconds before sleep took him, that he could let go of being angry with Tony.

Accepting Tony’s decision, and choosing not to be angry with him for it, just made everything easier, even if he didn’t like it. 

The days went by faster, despite there being no more scheduled activities, no more forced shopping trips, journeys to the movie theater, or outdoor tours through nature preservations. At the most, they went to the beach, and at the least Peter and Ned floated around in the pool while Happy stayed inside and watched TV, no matter how many times they asked him to join them. 

And the nights were always the same.

Just Peter and Tony in the workshop, not really talking about anything important, trading tools back and forth until Peter’s eyes were too heavy to stay open and his brain was too worn to stay awake. 

On the night Peter’s world shifted, Tony had left him in the workshop on his own, with a quick word that’d he be right back. He fumbled around with a project Tony gave him as some sort of intelligence test, probably, when his eyes drifted across the room and over to Tony’s desk, the one with his computers. 

There was a stack of papers sitting on top of it. They were new, and therefore, an object of curiosity. His feet moved across the workshop automatically, without a conscious decision to do so, and before he could stop them, his hands were reaching out, taking the papers from the desk. 

His heart jumped to his throat. 

They were adoption papers. Letters with advice and instruction about the proceedings from lawyers. As he thumbed through them, he was horrified both by the idea that this was what was keeping Tony awake at night, and by the idea that he’d started this process without talking to him about it. He wondered if indecision was the reason for both, that Tony couldn’t decide if he wanted to make this permanent. Peter hoped so. That would mean they were both the same page.

He wasn’t stupid or delusional. He knew from the way May didn’t come see him in the hospital when he was shot, from the way she changed her number and wouldn’t even talk to him on the phone, that he’d probably never see her again. He knew it logically, but there was something still there. Something like illogical hope, that still hung on, only now just by a single, tiny thread. 

Peter couldn’t cut it away, no matter how badly he wanted it to disappear sometimes, no matter how badly he wished he could just forget about his old life and pretended it’d always been him and Tony and Pepper. But adoption, well that could crush it. 

He just couldn’t decide if he wanted really, truly wanted it to go away.

He put the papers back and ditched the computer in a hurry when he heard Pepper and Tony’s bickering getting closer and closer. He settled back at his workstation, he grabbed the hammer he’d been working with, and pretended he wasn’t paying attention to them as they entered the workshop.

Their bickering was normal, but on that night, it grated at his nerves. It pounded into his ears as he hammered at the metal below him. It made his hands shake, and the next time he brought the hammer down, full force, on his own fingers.

Peter cried out, dropped the hammer, and the bickering went silent. He cradled his hand next to his chest, but within seconds Tony was at his side trying to pry it away.

“Let me see it,” said Tony. He continued trying to wrestle Peter’s arm away from his chest, trying and failing to get a better look at the injury, but he wasn’t strong enough. 

“Don’t be so rough,” said Pepper. “Jesus Tony you’re going to hurt him even more. Give him some space.”

“No, I need to see it,” said Tony, again, louder, and Peter swore he heard some panic buried beneath all the noise. “His fingers might be broken.” 

“I’m fine,” said Peter, backing out of Tony’s grip. His voice also came out forceful but panicked. He took more steps backwards, looked at both of them, and held the injured hand up. “See? It’s _fine_. Relax about it.” 

The way Tony’s eyes seemed to be popping out made Peter take more steps backwards, until his back was against the wall. 

“What did you – did you just say to me? –“

“I have no idea where he’s heard that before,” said Pepper.

Tony cut a glare at Pepper, then marched across the workshop to where Peter stood and seized his hand. That time, Peter let him take it and look it over, but not without a loud sigh to make sure Tony understood how annoying he was acting. It took just a few seconds for Tony to release his hand and step away. 

“It looks fine.”

Peter gave Tony dead, I-told-you-so, eyes, that flickered back and forth between him and Pepper. He supposed this was his life now. These were his parents, and he’d known that, or at least he thought he did. The papers that sat on the desk made him grasp it on a new level, made it reality in a way it somehow hadn’t been before. 

He could feel it slipping. That last thread that was May and Peter, a family, and he still couldn’t decide it that was good or bad. 

“I’m pretty tired,” said Peter. He tried to make his voice sound normal, but he read the room and knew he wasn’t successful. “I’m going to bed.”

He climbed up the stairs, leaving two very confused adults behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that I need a t-shirt that says relax about it, because that has to be one of my favorite Tony Stark quotes from my favorite marvel movie (it's Iron Man 3, seen endgame, my favorite is still iron man 3) Anyways thanks for reading!! Just one more chapter of the LA section in this story before we move on!! And because I have no self control I'm also writing a homeless Peter au, so maybe that will be up soon?? who even knows. hope you all have a great day


	6. adoption

Tony sat in his workshop, alone and waiting, waiting for something he knew probably wouldn’t happen, based on how the last couple of nights had gone. He should probably just join Pepper in bed. He probably should pour his glass of whiskey down the drain and go to sleep at a reasonable hour for once, but he couldn’t stop waiting, even if there was a part of him that knew it was pointless. 

Peter wouldn’t be joining him in the workshop. He would stay in his bed, where Tony knew, courtesy of FRIDAY, he wasn’t actually sleeping. 

He tried not to take it personally. Tony learned from the books that getting offended by teenagers acting out, or in this case, distancing themselves, wasn’t productive. Still, he had a hard time not letting it get under his skin that his child would rather toss and turn, blink at the ceiling and count sheep all night than spend time with him.

Part of the frustration came from thinking things had been getting better. Tony thought they had made up, that while Peter was still obviously unhappy about not being able to go out as Spider-Man during their short stay in LA, he at least accepted it without any more anger towards him and Pepper.

Tony thought their nights in the workshop were progress. He thought they were helping to successfully distract him and mend their relationship, at the same time.

But he’d been wrong. 

Peter was as distant as ever, would barely talk to him or Pepper during meals, and during the evening, when they were home, they saw him and Ned only in passing. Tony could only barely take Pepper’s advice and let it go, pretend like it wasn’t getting to him, but of course it was getting to him.

It made him feel like Howard. Like he was doing something wrong. Like Peter hated him and it was somehow his fault. It had to be, didn’t it? If he was a good father, his kid would be able to sleep at night, or at least feel like he was able to come to him when he wasn’t.

Tony set his glass of whiskey down on the table and slid a finger over the condensation. The dim lights flickered as he heard it. Light, careful and planned footsteps coming down from the stairs. He perked up, straightened out in his chair for a split second, until he realized those weren’t the sound footsteps made when they wanted to be heard. 

He stayed completely still on his chair as he watched Peter enter the workshop, as he watched Peter sneak into the workshop. He wondered why Peter didn’t notice him, didn’t hear his heart hammering away in his chest, unless his own heart was doing the same, blocking out any other noise in the room.

Tony frowned as Peter practically tiptoed to the cabinet that held his bookbag, and inside of that, his suit, and he raised an eyebrow when Peter gave FRIDAY the correct password and the door came open with a click. He reached inside and pulled his bookbag out, looking truly miserable as he did it, and Tony’s heart ached. 

Tony wondered, wildly, if Peter wanted to be caught. If he wanted someone to stop him from this impulse he didn’t understand, or if he was just looking to pick a fight with him, looking for an excuse to say more cruel words with the intention of pushing him away even further.

He wouldn’t participate in that. He wouldn’t give Peter a fight. 

Instead, he cleared his throat.

Peter startled, his breath caught, and his eyes went wide when he zeroed in on Tony. His shoulders fell, and his bookbag went slack in his hands. He stared back at Tony, unreadable and miserable and uncharacteristically silent. 

And Tony couldn’t take it anymore. This battle back and forth, the wall of silence, the avoiding, the Peter constantly and persistently attempting to do the one thing Tony didn’t want him to, and had good reason not allow him to do it. Really, it left him with just one choice, one to follow the advice Pepper had given him back when Peter was happy and cuddling with otters, when his only complaint was being smothered with sunscreen. 

Tony had to do it. He had to let the kid get burnt. 

“Go ahead,” said Tony. He waved his hand towards the door, gesturing for him to leave with his bookbag, but Peter didn’t move. “I’m serious. Get out of here, go be Spider-Man.”

Peter stared. He still didn’t move. “Is this another test?”

“No,” said Tony, though his tone had some bit to it, he was at least trying to sound normal. “This is me, at the end of my patience. If you want to go, then go, I’m running out of ways to stop you, aren’t I? But just because I’m letting you do this doesn’t mean it isn’t a mistake, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean I approve.”

Peter shifted on his feet as the room became still, as the air became thick with heavy silence. He looked down at the bookbag in his hand, then back up at Tony. For a split second, Tony thought he might make the right choice, but that second was over fast. Peter’s eyes switched into a hard glare. He backed away towards the stairs, before turning around completely.

“Whatever you’re looking for out there,” said Tony, causing Peter to pause on the bottom step, with his hand on the railing. “You won’t find it.”

Tony reclaimed his whiskey as Peter continued to stomp up the stairs. He’d expected him to go, but he hadn’t expected it to hurt that bad.

* * *

Hours later, the panic set in, and Tony was beginning to regret his decision. He sat at the bar in the kitchen, with his laptop open, and his eyes glued to the dot on the map that was Spider-Man. His son. The vigilante. Fighting crime in a city he knew nothing about, and that knew nothing about him. 

Tony scrutinized the dot as it moved through the city. Once or twice, when the dot stopped moving for long periods of times, Tony considered suiting up and bringing him home immediately. His mind with wild with admittedly paranoid thoughts. 

Peter was strong and smart and resourceful and it’d take a lot more than a petty street criminal to cause him any serious damage.

But then came the less paranoid thoughts, like people with cameras and too much free time and over active imaginations. People who would connect the dots. People who could make a video or share a post, and get everyone questioning whether or not the orphan Tony Stark took in was Spider-Man. 

Tony didn’t want Peter’s life to turn into more of a nightmare than it already was. 

His anxious, paranoia kept his eyes on the computer screen, even when he heard Pepper enter the kitchen. Her feet moved across the kitchen floor, her arm slipped across his back, and her hair hit his face as she leaned over to get a closer look at the screen.

After just a few seconds, she straightened up and rearranged her hand on his shoulder. “Please tell this isn’t what I think it is.” 

“You’re the one who said we’ve got to let him make his own mistakes.”

“I meant let him get sunburnt,” said Pepper. “Or let him stay up too late before finals, or drink caffeine before bedtime, or literally anything else that doesn’t involve our child running around in the middle of the night hunting down car thieves.” 

Our child. Tony grinned at that, but it was short lived. The rest of the sentence caught up with him, and they fell quiet while they both processed what had been said. It had nothing to do with LA, but everything to do with Spider-Man. When they got back to New York, they were going to have to deal with Peter being Spider-Man again. Somehow.

Tony figured Pepper had it easier. She had practice, and it wasn’t until Peter that Tony truly knew what she felt when she worried about him coming home. 

As if on cue, as if to confirm their fears were reality, a distress alarm sounded from the laptop. 

“Talk to me, Fri. Tell me what’s happening,” said Tony.

“Peter’s heartrate has increased, boss.” 

Tony and Pepper exchanged worried looks. 

“Is he hurt?”

“He appears to be in emotional distress,” said FRIDAY.

“Connect us.”

“Very well,” said FRIDAY. Seconds later she came back with, “Peter has declined the call.”

Tony let out a frustrated breath. “Then tell him I said to get back here.”

There was silence, and Tony was about to order a threat through the AIs, but then he saw Peter’s dot on the laptop screen. It moved in the right direction, advancing slowly, but still advancing, closer and closer to home.

“Well at least he still listens,” said Tony.

“Yeah,” said Pepper. “Through commands via AI.” Pepper put her hand in his hair and kissed his forehead. “I’m going back to bed. Somehow I think you got this one covered.” 

Tony watched her go, knowing she was right, but still wished he had her as backup. He didn’t know which version of Peter was going to walk through the door. Defiant, unreasonable, or the version of him that didn’t care enough to be either. Panicky Peter, or maybe an apologetic one.

His emotions were up and down and everywhere in between, and though Tony didn’t know exactly what was going on in his head, he couldn’t really blame him for being moody. Tony knew what it was like to feel abandoned, and it wasn’t something that went away after a couple good nights with a new family, wasn’t a feeling Tony could fix, no matter how hard he tried.

He gave an order to FRIDAY, one to replay the baby-monitor protocol footage. At least that way he’d have some idea of what was coming his way. 

* * *

Peter stood outside the Malibu mansion.

 _His_ mansion.

He supposed that’s how it worked. Once he was adopted, everything that was Tony’s was his too. Not that it wasn’t before, but adoption made it legally his. Adoption would make him an heir, would amend his birth certificate, and erase the family he had before. 

The parents he lost to the sky. The uncle he lost to a bullet, and the aunt who left him because that bullet had been Peter’s fault, because he was Spider-Man and should’ve been able to stop it. 

He ripped off his mask and wiped tears from his eyes with his forearm. He blinked through wet eyes back up at the mansion. There were lights on in the lower level of the house. No doubt, it was Tony waiting up for him. He rubbed at his eyes some more, trying to erase the evidence of tears.

Peter needed to pull himself together. At least enough to make it past Tony, so he could go up into his room and cry silently into his pillow, hoping not to wake up Ned.

He took a shaky breath, willed the tears to stay behind his eyes, and marched up to the door. Everything was fine. He held it together just fine as he walked through the foyer, but it all crashed when he passed the kitchen, when he looked over and saw Tony hunched over his laptop. 

Tony torn his gaze away from the screen, and looked at Peter, haunted and concerned. He was out of his chair with a hand on his shoulder before Peter could even think about blinking away unbidden tears.

“That wasn’t your fault,” said Tony. “You’re fast, but you’re not that fast.”

“What?” asked Peter. “How did – how do you know?”

“Baby-monitor protocol.”

Oh, right. Even when Tony wasn’t there in person, his eyes were still with him through technology. It hit him in a weird way. He wasn’t angry about being spied on. Maybe on a different night he would be, but then, right there, the helicoptering was sort of nice, sort of comforting.

But even that couldn’t completely take away the nightmare of seeing a man gunned down on the streets of LA or having to deal with the truth that he failed to prevent it. He failed just like he failed his uncle Ben, and maybe that made May justified. Maybe she was right to cut Peter out of her life.

He insisted on being Spider-Man, but Spider-Man couldn’t save Ben, couldn’t bring him back after he died or rewrite his ending by saving others. Even if he could, the only person he had anything to prove to wasn’t around. Not her body. Not even her eyes.

Tony’s hand on his shoulder kept him pinned to ground as he realized, not for the first time, that he’d been running after May when he should’ve been paying attention to what was right in front of him. He wondered, with panic, how many times he’d forget, how many times he’d have to come to the bittersweet revelation that May didn’t care, but at least he had a few solid people who did. 

Peter stepped forward, locked his arms around Tony and bury his head in his chest. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’ve never had anything to be sorry about, bud,” said Tony. His arm wrapped around the top of his back. 

“F-for the way I’ve been acting. I- “ 

“Stop it.”

Peter clamped his jaw shut. He really wasn’t in any position to argue with Tony, so he just let him hug him and hugged him back and quietly appreciated how Tony seemed to understand he didn’t need words to fix the void left by May. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t, and maybe nothing would.

Maybe that last thread was something unbreakable, something that could never be cut, or maybe - 

“I saw the adoption papers,” Peter admitted. He kept his voice low and quiet, thinking maybe Tony wouldn’t hear him, but when the man shifted his feet, he knew he definitely had. 

Tony stepped out of their hug, to make eye-contact, but held onto his arms. “You weren’t supposed to. We were gonna to talk to you about it first, we were gonna wait until – “

“-I want you to,” said Peter. 

Tony frowned, and Peter knew him well enough to know what this frown meant. It meant confusion. It meant he was trying to put together a puzzle but couldn’t see how all the pieces connected. It didn’t happen often, and when it did, it was usually Pepper or Peter related. Tony understood robots but didn’t always understand people.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” said Peter. “Soon.”

“Soon?” asked Tony. 

Peter nodded his head. 

“Okay,” said Tony, but his voice didn’t sound very convincing. “Uh, I’ll make a call to my lawyers.” He studied Peter again, with the same frown, then seemed to shake it off. He moved his hands up and down Peter’s arms, as if he were trying to warm him up or dry him off. “Hey, let’s do something.” 

“I don’t really feel like going down to the workshop.”

“Doesn’t have to be the workshop,” said Tony. “How about a movie? You’ve barely been in our theater all summer. I thought you and Ned would live in there.” 

Peter nodded, then went upstairs to change out of his suit and into his pajamas. He’d let Tony talk him into watching a movie, even though he knew what was really happening, even though he knew both Tony and Pepper knew the fastest way to get him to go to sleep when he was miserable was to turn on a movie. 

When he got back downstairs to the theater, his theory was confirmed by the sight of Tony laying out a blanket over the recliners in the center of the room. With a sigh, he sat down on the recliner next to Tony’s and got under the covers.

Tony put his arm around him, and he wondered if this was it. He wondered if an amended birth certificate and new legal status would be what finally cut all ties to May. If it would make her absence hurt any less. If it would erase her just like she erased him. He hoped so. He pinned all his hope to that, to being a Stark, because being a Parker meant not being good enough and it meant swinging around the streets in the middle of the night, looking for chances to prove that he was.

He shut his eyes, not even pretending to be interested in the movie, leaned his head against Tony, and fell asleep listening to his heart thundering away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it for this one! The next story in this series is a one-shot, and then I have one more multi-chaptered, angst fest story in this series before they all become one-shots!! It might be a week or two before the next one is posted, though. I'm gonna try to finish up my other story and work on a few others, but this one will be back!! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and giving kudos and commenting!! You guys really are the best!!

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on [tumblr](https://hailing-stars.tumblr.com)


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